Zurich
by TheSoulOfAStrawberry
Summary: A series of e-mails exchanged between Martin and Douglas following the events of Yverdon-Les-Bains, detailing emotional turmoil, love and loss- and above all, a strong and secure friendship between two pilots.


**Hi! I know, I normally hate people who write alternates for episodes and stuff (subtle nod to every H2G2 fan who thinks they can write the sixth book better than Colfer). This is actually written for Abby, my brilliant friend, who told me that the last episode of series 4 was "worse than Reichenbach". It wasn't quite, so I thought I should make it so. Got the idea after finishing "The Salmon of Doubt", and needing to cry.**

**Also, thanks to the random people on the evening train from London Victoria to Bognor (via Gatwick) who indirectly made the delayed journey fantastic by playing "Fizz Buzz" while I was writing this. Hi! I was the one with the garish Christmas jumper, greasy hair and massive DSLR camera.**

**Enjoy! Critiques welcome!**

* * *

**To: Douglas Richardson ( douglas . richardson _ mjn . co .uk)**

**From: Martin Crieff (cptmartincrieff _ swissair . com) **

**RE: Hi**

**Sent: 18:34, 12/06/13**

Douglas,

I know you're probably not too chuffed with me. I'm sorry I'm having to say this by e-mail- I rang a few days ago and earlier today, but I only reached your answerphone... So yes, if you got some blank answerphone messages, I'm really sorry, that was me. I don't think I can ring Carolyn to get you either. Anyway, I thought I'd e-mail you, so you can pick it up when you get a minute.

Douglas, I feel I should say that I'm really, really, really sorry about how I left. I didn't want to hurt any of you; and yes, I'd already told Arthur about getting the job, but I just couldn't tell you and Carolyn when you turned up in Yverdon-Les-Bains, not when you looked so happy. I also realise I left a bit of a mess, especially trying to call Arthur a liar. He hates me, doesn't he? Carolyn probably does too, but I wouldn't blame her, and I wouldn't blame you if you didn't reply to this e-mail. Well, I'd quite like it if you did, but you shouldn't have to if you don't want to, even if I want you to, though I know this isn't about what I want, it's about what you want.

The truth is, I wasn't going to take the job. I liked, or like what was, MJN Air, despite being a rubbish captain and, it turns out, an even worse friend. I knew I couldn't do it forever, but I'd enjoyed flying with you and Arthur and Carolyn (sometimes) and I didn't want to leave it behind. I can see now that clinging onto this and playing you all around was stupid. So very stupid.

I really hope you can forgive me, Douglas. It's probably empty of me to say it, but you were a great friend, especially for someone like me. I can see it now: my new captain is an arse, I can see how annoying I must have been. Just... I'm really, really sorry.

I hope the job hunting is going OK.

Martin C.

**To: Martin Crieff (cptmartincrieff**** _ swissair . com** )

**From: Douglas Richardson (****douglas . richardson _ mjn . co** .uk) 

**RE: RE: Hi**

**Sent: 12:01, 19/06/13**

Martin, I'm not mad at you. Well, not that mad. Accusing Arthur of being a liar when he was simply doing what Arthur does best (besides, perhaps, crazy golf: something at which it turns out, he is actually nothing short of "brilliant" at) and telling the full, unadulterated truth, was disgusting and shameful; and believe me, if you think I'm being harsh, you'd love (or otherwise) to have heard what Carolyn said about you when Arthur wouldn't come out of his room for a week after you left. But I, and Carolyn, I suspect, do understand why you did what you did. Herc mentioned that he thought something was fishy on our way back to Fitton in February, but I thought he was just being all mysterious in that way he does to make Carolyn shut up for a bit.

I, personally, in a remarkable break with tradition, honestly didn't see your leaving coming. You'd left it positively ages- just under four months, and so Carolyn and I just assumed that you'd not been contacted and so weren't about to bring it up and embarrass you. So, perhaps I owe you an apology in that respect- I've always admired you, in a weird and twisted fashion, that any magnificent sky-god belittled into the meagre position of FO under a ginger midget might be familiar with. Yet- clearly not enough. You got the job with Swiss Air. Congratulations, surely, are in order, and I've not offered them to you, even though I really should have. You're on your way up, Martin. You've got a far better job than I've ever had, even before my Air England debacle. Well done. As much as it pains me to say it, with my remnant anger for the way in which you left MJN, you're a good pilot, and according to Carolyn, you'd had just as much baked potato as you could take.

So how is Zurich treating you? Besides, of course, your captain (he sounds ghastly). Still in touch with Theresa? Got a nice flat?

Job hunting is a nightmare. But it is so for all of us back in England. Believe it or not, there aren't many jobs for the Arthurs and Carolyns of the world, nevermind 56-year-old FOs.

"Doug"

PS- Couldn't help but notice your e-mail address. "Cpt"?

**To: Douglas Richardson (****douglas . richardson _ mjn . co** .uk)

**From: Martin Crieff (cptmartincrieff ****_ swissair . com**) 

**RE: RE: RE: Hi**

**Sent: 19:53, 19/06/13**

Douglas,

Thanks so much for getting back to me, it feels great to be talking again, and, if I'm perfectly honest, I'm kind of in need of a friend. In answer to your question, the "cpt" was a gag courtesy of the CEO of Swiss Air, who sat in on my interview with this woman (I really don't know her name) were I had the typical conversation about being a captain. I think he thought it was funny. I think the Swiss have a weird sense of humour- or it could just be him, I'm not sure. Regardless, I know. It's not funny, it's now the opposite of what it used to be and I painfully have to admit that I am a "meagre" First Officer.

I'm still really sorry about how I left. I'm worried about Arthur, mostly, no offence- I could see it when I yelled at him that I'd done some damage that was potentially unfixable, and had I not have been so stupid and so angry, I would have stopped right there and begged for his forgiveness. He and Carolyn have the right to hate me. I would. I do, even. In that respect, I don't believe I did what I did either- any of it, from getting the job to being a conplete and utter jerk to everyone at MJN. Do you know, I even managed to say something awful to Carl on my way off the airfield. I ran into him, and I can't even remember what it was, I was so angry, but I feel terrible about it. I don't think I can stand who I've become.

Zurich is OK. It's eerily clean, and yes, I have a bigger flat, and I can eat all this great food. I still haven't sold the van. Mum said I should, but I just can't bring myself to do it. I wouldn't get much for it, and it's actually serving quite well, as the airport isn't very far away from where I live. I'm still in touch with Theresa, too: she comes up every now and again for a week, and I've got some holiday time at the end of August, so we're taking Maxie to the south of France, in the vain hope that he'll find some celebrity's children who are even more stuck-up than he is to play with.

And, saying this, with my new job and salary and home and girlfriend, I know I should be grateful. The thing is, I miss England, and I miss MJN. Being a pilot lacks the lustre and excitement it once had- it's monotonous to sit in the flight deck for hours on end, saying absolutely nothing to my captain. And then, there's not that fantastic feeling when the plane leaves the ground anymore; there aren't any of our word games for me to lose at; the coffee tastes great and we never get into any of those sticky situations that end with us drive a plane through the desert or getting Gordon Shappey stuck to the control panel. It's just a job now.

Best of luck finding a job. I can't see why anyone wouldn't find you wholly employable, but it might just be the job market at the moment. Everyone's having problems, Theresa says.

Do you think you could give me some contact details for Arthur? I really need to sort things out with him.

Martin

**To: Martin Crieff (cptmartincrieff****_ swissair . com** ) 

**From: Douglas Richardson (****douglas . richardson _ mjn . co** .uk)

**RE: RE: RE: RE: Hi**

**Sent: 20:21, 27/06/13**

Firstly, I'm very chuffed that you've finally found yourself a keeper with your princess. Unfortunately, I'd love to tell you about how Arthur's fine, but he's not. I don't talk to Carolyn much anymore, but from what I can tell from our weekly calls, it's really getting to her. She's found a job in an office, through a friend, which I am immeasurably happy about. I think Herc intends on proposing to her too. But Arthur isn't the same. He barely speaks, she says. Herc says they should get him a therapist or a similarly overpaid quack, but Carolyn knows as much as I do that she won't get it on the NHS, and with Herc no longer at Caledonian and Carolyn the equivalent of an office junior ("junior" being the operative word, if you get my gist), there's little chance of them ever being able to afford it. Plus, since when does anything orthodox work on Arthur?

I'm not telling you all this to make you feel guilty. Although you caused him being like this, I'm not sure you're actually to blame anymore- I mean, Carolyn and I are mostly over it, but with Arthur, it's like you've died and left him a million pound debt that he can't seem to shake; except much, much worse. He's not just lost his skipper, remember- MJN, Carolyn the CEO and I were all, basically, his life, up until June. He's a bit like you in that way; except it wasn't his choice to leave it all behind, and now he has, it's not to be an FO with an international company with a princess as a girlfriend. He's still Arthur, stuck in Fitton. It's virtually impossible to find him a job, even in a hotel, because it turns out, his worst things, are interviews.

You didn't take your CPL all those many, many times to become a pharmacist, did you? Remember, if nothing else, that you are in your dream job. And, on top of that, you have a steady job, and though it may not be the most exhiliratingly interesting job now, if you invest the time and effort into it, I'm sure you can screw something up enough to have to think "What would Douglas do?". It is in your nature to have the worst luck in the world; even worse than those guys who defy statistics to be struck by lightening a ridiculous number of times.

Your new CEO doesn't sound entirely unlike Carolyn.

Arthur has, like everyone at MJN, the work e-mail arthur . shappey _ mjn . co .uk, but I'm not sure he is aware of it's existence. If he does, he seldom checks it. I don't know what to suggest otherwise. I haven't talked to Carl, but he still works at ATC in Fitton. Apparently, the airfield has clients other than MJN.

All the best.

Douglas Richardson

**To: Douglas Richardson (****douglas . richardson _ mjn . co** .uk)

**From: Martin Crieff (cptmartincrieff ****_ swissair . com**) 

**RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: Hi**

**Sent: 08:01, 01/07/13**

Thanks Douglas. I really appreciate everything you've done for me, despite me being such a jerk. I tried e-mailing Arthur but like you said, he didn't reply. Instead, I've posted him a letter, including two of the limited-edition Toblerones they sell all over Zurich. Please tell Carolyn not to intercept his post because it's in my handwriting, I've not written anything damaging. I'm happy for Carolyn, though- please let me know when Herc actually pops the question, because I will ring her. You've still not found a job yet, then?

I am grateful I've got a job, and I still love being a pilot, though I can't use the captain line much; not that I need to. I think I've also gotten myself into a secret club, of sorts, near baggage handling in Zurich Airport. My captain, however, has yet to be invited!

I'm flying to Bristol next weekend, and staying overnight. It'd be great if we met up, went out for dinner or something. Sushi, if you like.

Martin

**To: Martin Crieff (cptmartincrieff ****_ swissair . com**) 

**From: Douglas Richardson (****douglas . richardson _ mjn . co** .uk)

**RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: Hi**

**Sent: 20:45, 06/07/13**

Sushi will be great. I'll pick you up from the airport, but you're not looking for a Lexus, I've sold it. I can't afford to run it, especially without the free jet fuel. Have you booked a hotel? Because I still have a spare room, and there's no point in you paying when you can come and make my house feel less empty. Helena has taken alot of the furniture, too.

Carolyn mentioned your letter before I could tell her not to intercept it- though she didn't anyway. She said Arthur cried quietly for a bit afterwards, then came and ate dinner with her and Herc, which he hasn't done for about a month. So, whatever you wrote, it must have hit a nerve, or something. Carolyn has also asked me if I think it's a good idea for her to take out a loan to pay for Arthur to attend Oxford Air Training. She reckons Arthur needs a major turn around in his life now, and to move out before he turns 30 (which doesn't give her a lot of time at all). He has A-Levels in Physics and Maths, which are apparently both A grade, impeccable eyesight and, strangely enough, a substantial amount of experience with aviation. Still, I thought I should ask you what your personal opinion of this move would be.

He liked the Toblerones, too- he was quite enthusiastic about them. I think it reminds him that you've not forgotten our times with MJN. And he liked the card- he showed me the front. Did you make it? He keeps walking past the mantlepiece and saying, "Yellow car", which, according to Carolyn, makes him look a bit barmy.

Herc told me he was taking Carolyn to Cornwall at the start of August to ask her. He intends to do all sorts of sickly sweet things including roses and childhood cafés to make her go all gooey in a way I wasn't previously aware Carolyn could achieve. She's getting soft not having to keep us in check.

No job as yet, unless you count being a part-timer at the local newsagents. I know it's hard to get a job nowadays. Even the bloody milkman has a degree in today's world, and all I've got under my belt not aviation-related is a bad record with numerous multi-million pound companies and a few A-Levels from about 40 years ago. I'm trying for a job as an apprentice barista in the local bookshop too, as a bit more income to pay the mortgage, but I may move out soon, truth be told. I'll tell you what, though- if I'm sucessful with the job, the next time you're passing through old Blighty, pop in to Fitton and I'll knock a patch off those pretentious Swiss cabin crew with the best coffee you've not yet tasted.

God, I'm turning into you, Martin, with all these badly-paid jobs. Or the old-you. You're more me now.

See you soon. Still have the same mobile number if you need to get in touch.

Douglas Richardson

**To: Douglas Richardson (****douglas . richardson _ mjn . co** .uk)

**From: Martin Crieff (cptmartincrieff ****_ swissair . com)**

**RE: Thanks**

**Sent: 21:10, 06/07/13**

Looking forward to next weekend. Do you think you can get Arthur to come along too? I may have helped a bit, but he really deserves a face-to-face apology. And it'd he great to be able to stay with you, yes, if that's OK with you. If it's awkward in any way, just let me know; I can use a company card to cover the cost of the hotel if needed.

Theresa made the card. She's a really good artist- do you remember the huge oil painting we saw of the beach in the castle? She did that. She's fantastic.

However, in regards to Arthur, I'm not sure OAT or any other private pilot training take applicants over the age of 26, but you'll have to check. They might make an exception, I'm not really sure. Though it doesn't surprise me that Arthur has good grades. He may say some stupid things, but he's fantastically insightful sometimes.

I don't think I'd have a leg to stand on if it weren't for planes. They could do something drastic like close European airspace like with that stupid volcano in Iceland ages ago, and I'd quickly become a snivelling wreck in a cardboard box. Or maybe not that quickly. For the first time in my life, I have a savings.

I forgot to mention, I'm learning German. It opens up more windows in the company, apparently. I've not learnt a language since high school, so it's all a bit new.

I'm happy for Carolyn. I wonder what the wedding will be like. I can't imagine her in white though... anyway, she'd say something to get out of it like "White makes me looked drained" or whatever women say, and turn up to Herc's extravagant ceremony looking the same as usual.

Don't be so harsh on yourself, Douglas. Aren't there any jobs in any other airlines?

Martin

**To: Martin Crieff (cptmartincrieff ****_ swissair . com**) 

**From: Douglas Richardson (****douglas . richardson _ mjn . co** .uk)

**RE: RE: Thanks**

**Sent: 21:47, 06/07/13**

"Don't be so harsh on yourself"?! Oh, I despair at how quickly things have changed between us! I wonder where everything went topsy-turvy? Did you let Arthur trade the cow for some magic beans?

Jobs with airlines are few and far between for someone like me. I'm nearing retirement anyway, so I may as well sit back and enjoy the ride for a few years.

I think you're right about Carolyn. Though you never know when it comes to Herc. She wouldn't marry him now if he didn't have a good hold of her heart, surely? Any woman would learn that lesson after being lumbered with the joys of Gordon Shappey.

German, hm? I need to think of some way of insulting that, don't I? Does Theresa speak it too? You can teach me some chat-up lines when you visit, if you'd be so obliged. Not that the Germans are usually my type, but one never knows.

I'll see about Arthur. Please don't count on it.

Douglas Richardson

**To: Martin Crieff (cptmartincrieff ****_ swissair . com**) 

**From: Douglas Richardson (****douglas . richardson _ mjn . co** .uk)

**RE: Hey, chief...?**

**Sent: 16:46, 19/07/13**

Nice to see you the other week, you look well. Just a quick message to check you're still alive. Arthur is much better too after your chat with him. Carolyn said she took him down to the job centre in Bristol yesterday, and they're trying to place him somewhere. Anywhere, really. He's also come up with an answer to your "yellow rickshaw" conundrum- he says they don't count, because they're not technically cars. So there you have it, Martin. The definitive answer.

There is a letter for you in the post from Carolyn. I can't say anymore, but don't be worried.

Got the job as a barista. The technology they have for coffee making nowadays is smashing.

Douglas Richardson

**To: Douglas Richardson (****douglas . richardson _ mjn . co .u**k)

**From: Martin Crieff (cptmartincrieff ****_ swissair . com**) 

**RE: RE: Hey, chief...?**

**Sent: 17:13, 25/07/13**

No, no, I'm fine. Sorry it took so long to get back to you, I've been working some anti-social hours recently. Carolyn and Herc, huh? I'm guessing it's going to be a small ceremony? Well done with the job, too. I still think you should keep your eyes open for aviation-related jobs... I can keep my eyes open in Switzerland...?

It was great to see you and Arthur. I'll let you know next time I'm passing through.

Martin

**To: Martin Crieff (cptmartincrieff ****_ swissair . com**) 

**From: Douglas Richardson (****douglas . richardson _ mjn . co** .uk)

**RE: RE: RE: Hey, chief...?**

**Sent: 16:39, 26/07/13**

I'm not taking a job in Switzerland. Like I said, I'm done with flying.

Yes, a small ceremony. They're thinking Gretna Green.

Sorry, short message. I will sit down to update you when I have more news.

Douglas Richardson

**To: Martin Crieff (cptmartincrieff ****_ swissair . com**)

**From: Carolyn Knapp-Shappey (carolynk_s12 _ hotmail . com ) **

**RE: URGENT**

**Sent: 06:51 01/08/13**

Martin, please call me as soon as you get this, something's happened.

Carolyn

**To: Douglas Richardson (****douglas . richardson _ mjn . co** .uk)

**From: Martin Crieff (cptmartincrieff ****_ swissair . com)**

**RE: Goodbye**

**Sent: 17:13, 23/10/13**

Douglas,

I know it's kind of stupid for writing this. I mean, neither you are I were into any of that "sentimental" stuff, and you probably would have said something really sarcastic and cynical if you knew I was writing this, but I don't care. In my defence, it's late and I've been drinking. Wait- no, I don't have to justify myself to you. You won't even read this.

I miss you, Douglas. It's not even been a long time, but I do. It was all too sudden. I'd had a terrible day, and I sat down on the bed in this poky little hotel room when my phone flashes at me, telling me I've got an e-mail from Carolyn. She sounded dreadful when she rang me. I kept thinking back to that time when Arthur rang the sat-com about my mum- do you remember that?... but how horribly, horribly different this was. There was an empty feeling in my stomach. I still can't believe it, even now. It sounds ridiculous, but I keep checking my phone to see if you've gotten in contact again, and when something strange happens on a trip I make a mental note to tell you or Arthur about it- except, then, it all comes flooding back, and it's the worst feeling in the world.

I'm sure you'd be chuffed to know you're funeral was packed. You were always the sort of person who knew everyone, or at least one person, even if we were on the other side of the world. I think there were more people there than I saw at Carolyn's wedding- and they played "Come Fly With Me" too. I don't really remember much else- I kept imagining you sat next to me, making snarky comments about my suit and muttering slithers of gossip about everyone who came up to say a few words. I think you would have liked Arthur's speech, though. It was sort of humorous, but in a good way. I think you've made a huge impact on him, Douglas. He had Carolyn (yes, Carolyn as in Carolyn!) crying with his speech. And maybe me. Only a bit.

Maybe alot.

Alot has happened since then. Carolyn went ahead with the wedding. They did have it in Gretna Green, and it was all sunny and nice. You probably would have liked the food. Also, I'm engaged to Theresa. I proposed in Marseille, and she actually said yes! You'd probably be the only person to realise why it had to be Marseille in particular- because, of course, the three-letter code for Marseille Airport is MRS, because of course, we had that argument when you thought I was joking about it after you got the divorce papers from Helena. Which, I guess, makes me the Prince of Liechtenstein. I'm not sure I'm bothered by this title- I mean, it's not the same as being Captain, but maybe my priorities have changed over the years. I was jealous of you, to be honest, when we were at MJN: you had the house and the money and the family, and all I had was the empty shell of the title. If I am perfectly honest, I never, ever deserved that title. I was an arse and a bad pilot throughout my working with you, and even worse when I left. It might be a bit meaningless now, but I'm really sorry about how I treated you.

But we had a good time, didn't we? All those word games, discussions with Arthur, and mishaps in foreign countries. It's not just Arthur who thinks you are nothing short of "brilliant".

I'll never forget you, Douglas Richardson. I guess, now, you really are a true sky-god.

Martin


End file.
